Lindir And The Orcling
by sylc
Summary: Young Lindir meets an orcling one night whilst out wandering alone.


When Lindir the elfling came across an orcling one evening on one of his secret moonlit walks outside of Imladris' borders, he recalled what his Uncle Erestor had said about not talking to strangers and running away should he spy an orc, and decided to disobey. Instead of running, he decided to do the polite thing and go and greet the creature.

"Greetings," Lindir ventured in the Common Tongue when he had approached the orcling. Uncle Erestor had told him that if in doubt about what language to use, he should use the Common Tongue.

The orcling, who was sitting crosslegged on the rocky ground of the clearing in nothing but a pair of hide breeches and building mounds out of the small stones, squinted up at him. "Hello," he replied, also in the Common Tongue.

Lindir beamed. Good old Common Tongue! But then he noticed in the moonlight that the orcling was avoiding his gaze and looking ill at ease. His face fell. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not supposed to talk to elves," the orcling told him.

"Really?" Lindir was curious. "That is funny because I am not supposed to talk to orcs. Why are you not supposed to talk to us?"

"The captain says that you eat orcs and are our most deadly foes."

Lindir pulled a face. "My Uncle Erestor says that you ambush our travelling parties and are _our_ most deadly foes."

There was a short, uneasy silence. Both elfling and orcling sized each other up doubtfully. Lindir scanned the watchful dark-skinned face, the glossy skin, the callused hands and dusty breeches. He wished he had muscles like the orcling. He also wished that he was only wearing breeches. It was a hot summer night and he felt wet and sticky with sweat in his tunic.

Then the orcling suddenly ventured, with an awkward smile, "Maybe it's an adult thing."

Lindir liked that idea. He beamed back. "Maybe," he agreed. He looked at the ground beside the orc, hesitated, fidgeted momentarily with the hem of his tunic, then sat down crosslegged beside the orc. "What are you building?"

"A mountain range," the orc said.

"Like the Misty Mountains?" Lindir asked, glancing at said mountains, which loomed up dark and gloomy to the east, their peaks hidden in cloud. "Do you live there?"

"Yes. Where do you live?"

"Imladris," Lindir said. "I live with my uncle."

"Is he an elf?"

"Aye."

"What about your father?"

"Mother is dead. Father lives in Lindon," Lindir said. When the orcling looked a little confused, he thought for a bit, then added, "Lindon is a place west of here. Near the sea."

"I have never seen the sea," the orcling said. "Is it nice?"

"I do not know," Lindir said. "I, also, have never seen the sea."

"I'd like to see it some day," the orcling said. "I'd like to catch a great fish from it. The captain tells me that sea fish are bigger than river fish."

"Maybe they are bigger," Lindir said, nodding vigorously. It sounded right. After all, the Sea of Belegaer looked bigger than the River Bruinen on the big map on Uncle Erestor's wall.

There was another silence. The orcling turned his attention back to his minature mountain range and rearranged some of the stones so that the whitest ones were at the peaks. Lindir watched in fascination, not daring to try and help for fear of sending the mountain crumbling with his inexperienced fingers. He had never built a stony anything before.

Presently, he asked, "What about your parents?"

The orcling glanced at him, then back at the little mountain range. "Father is the captain of the patrol," he said. He hesitated, looked down at the loose stones in his dark hand, then looked back at him and said, "I don't have a mother."

Lindir nodded and smiled in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. He wondered if the orcling's mother was also dead and if that was what the orcling meant by saying that he did not have a mother.

There was another silence. Then Lindir ventured, with a shy smile, "I like your muscles."

The orcling's brow rose. He looked down at his bare arms and chest. Then he looked at Lindir and smiled back and said, "I like your hair."

Lindir beamed. Lots of people liked his hair - so much so that he had grown used to people touching it when they were talking to him. "What are you doing here besides making this mountain range?" he asked. "I have not seen you here before."

"That's because I haven't been here before."

"Did you run away from the Misty Mountains?"

The orcling laughed. "No. I'm here with the captain and the rest of the patrol. I'm waiting for them; they're doing a patrol of the borders of the half-elf's kingdom. The captain told me to tag along; it's the first time I've been out of the caves."

"By half-elf, you mean Lord Elrond?"

"I don't know. The captain doesn't name him. You know the half-elf?"

"My Uncle Erestor does, but..." Lindir trailed off when he saw a few Imladrian archers drop silently out of the trees across from them, the tips of their drawn arrows gleaming in the moonlight. He looked at the orcling and noticed that his new friend had paled and was looking behind him. On following his gaze, Lindir saw that they were completely surrounded by archers, all of whom were aiming their bows at the orcling.

"Lindir," said a clear, ringing voice. Lindir looked at the speaker, who was approaching him from the line of archers, and smiled. It was Lord Glorfindel. He knew Glorfindel a little bit; Glorfindel was Uncle Erestor's neighbour and supposedly very, very, _very_ old. He had once helped Glorfindel when the elf-lord had locked himself out of his rooms by squeezing into Glorfindel's rooms through a half-open window and fetching the key. He had taken the opportunity to briefly admire Glorfindel's splendid hat collection at the same time as well.

"Hello," he said and stood up to greet the elf politely. He blinked in surprise when Glorfindel took him firmly by the arm and started marching him off towards the line of archers, who parted to admit them. "Ai! Wait, he is my friend!" he said urgently to the elf-lord. He tugged on Glorfindel's tunic. When Glorfindel did not respond immediately, he squirmed to look behind them, but he could no longer see the orcling, so tightly closed was the circle of archers. "Glorfindel!"

"Hush," Glorfindel stroked his head and smiled down at him. "They are not going to hurt him; they are only going to send him on his way. Now come; I am sure Erestor is searching for you. I am sorry, but I am obliged to tell Erestor that you have been wandering on your own outside the realm and speaking with an orc."

Lindir fell silent and allowed himself to be escorted back to the house. As they reached Erestor's door, he looked at Glorfindel and said, "Did you catch the patrolling orcs?"

"Aye," Glorfindel said, stroking his head once more. He smiled faintly at him, then looked back at the door and knocked.


End file.
